Five Days at Naggiar
by Certified
Summary: "The Gallian Army'll be in ashes in three-day's time" they said. "Untrained militia no match for our war-hardened army." They said. They couldn't have been any more wrong. What looked to be a a quick and decisive showdown against Gallia turned into the greatest bloodbath we'd ever known. All it took was a 7.92mm round, a lance, and a shield to irreversibly turn the tide of our war.


_Hey guys, it's me again, Certified. This idea sort of came to me thinking about what went on in the head of the Imperials when You Know What happened. So, you know what? I acted on it. And here it is, the first of five chapters in this short story. Also, I should mention that this is a bit of a prequel to "Eastern Heat" that explores the motivations of the people who would later go on to create the Fhiraldian Independence League, among some other things. So, without further ado, enjoy my first return to the first-person-perspective in ages since I abandoned it._

* * *

Day One, Monday.

"Argh! The Gallians, they're attacking! Someone ready the-!" One of our gunners began yelling out at us below in the trenches. Well, until what I'd reckoned was a Gallian sniper flicked his exposed head off from his emplacement in the west bunker.

To our surprise when Johann and I rushed in seconds later, his head was perfectly intact as well as his –heightened- pulse. By Johann, of course, I was talking about our squad's engineer, Oswald the Iron. Not to imply that the rest of my squad even mattered anymore. The Gallian bastards –stole- their lives way back in Bruhl when they routed –my- unit. Out of twenty men who I stormed Ghirlandaio with, it was down to just us two. Johann Eisen, who's only real talent has been "not getting hit", and of course Me, Yozef Nonnenkof, the son of a bitch who had been promoted all the way to Major despite having no training as an officer, and only these past few months as combat experience.

Why, you might ask? Because the bitches above me would die, and the remaining incompetents above me would promote me up instead of –dare- take a real officer off the Frontlines with the Federation, a –redundant- officer at that. The most we've gotten from the frontline was General Gregor –May the son of a bitch rest in pain- and Maximilian's pet Valkyria. Johann might have disagreed with me, but in all honesty I think she was a worse officer than me – And now _she_ was the one above me. I could already feel a bad omen brewing up over that fact. I'd feel better off with her above me in bed than above me in the chain of command. Considering Johann's infatuation with her, I'd gander he'd agree with the former –but- not the latter.

"Private Younger! You still with us man?" Johann asked the wounded Gunner. He shook him a few times to no response, and then checked his pulse again. "Damnit, he's fading!" Johann grunted at me. I yanked the large Ragnite container off his back below his ammo supply and unfolded it for him. "At least he isn't bleeding out… Bullet jammed the flow somewhere in his midsection."

"You sure you want to use stolen Gallian med equipment on him? That thing probably isn't even sterile, Eisen!"

"Pick one, Nonnenkof! Do you want him to die, or do you want him to be sick for a week or two?!"

"-Week or two? For all I know that –thing- has herpes on it!" I looked down at the dying Private for a moment, nearly puking my guts out at seeing another man dying. "Point taken! Just do it!"

Johann pulled a metallic needle off the Ragnite container and stabbed it into the side of the Private's chest. He looked around in a critical hesitation, trying to find the activator button that the Gallian medics knew by heart. Alas, however, the button was on my side, which I pushed forward with a knot in my stomach from seeing the Private go clammy on us. The sound of a high-voltage electric shot rang out inside the Ragnite container, causing the Private to jump out like he was a Reanomorph in one of the Raum der Untoten films. I nearly shat myself like the first time I'd seen that one guy get stabbed through the skull during the first scene of "Raum der Untoten: Zweite Vorfall"

"Sima, can you answer me?! Come on, man!" Johann pleaded

"Y-Yeah… I can." He responded with a shakiness enthralling his speech. He tried to pull himself up with little success. More like –nonexistent- success to be precise. It was then I realized I had been kneeling on his legs, which I removed myself from. As I feared, there were still no results from the Private. Johan and I pulled him up to his feet, wary of the Gallian sniper watching from the opposite set of trenches. A raid-horn sounded off on our side, signaling the scheduled bombardment of the no-man's-land before we charged on the Gallian Army again.

"Can you walk? Sorry Sima, but I have to make sure that artillery is loaded for the barrage." Johann asked him.

"Yeah… I'll- I'll try." Sima Younger replied to us. Both of us obliged and let go of him, bracing ourselves as he collapsed forward with flailing arms but not a slight lurch from his legs. I got down to him, crawling forward on his hands in crippling pain, and tried to examine what was wrong. Right there on his back was an exit-point of a Gallian 7.92mm round which had lodged in the back wall of the bunker. From what I could see without joining the other casualties from a sudden dehydration was that his spine had been snapped in half above the stomach by the round.

"Relax, Sima, you'll be fine kiddo! You're just in… Neurological shock from the round impact. You'll be up and around with us within the week!" I lied. He was screwed. No damned doubt about it. I'd rather have just let the poor man die instead of force him to live the rest of his life knowing his dream of being a track-star had been preempted before it even had a chance to start. Or not, I had just remembered that was his twin-brother's dream. For some reason, be it irony or to just give the two some distinction, we had taken to calling his brother "Sima the Elder". I don't know for the life of me how their parents could be dumb enough to give twins the same name. Made life mighty hard for us folk that we had to give those two unremarkable bastards the kind of names we'd give to the real aces around here. And Johann, having an Ace kind of name despite his uselessness? He got his name "The Iron" for doing his job. In my opinion, soldiers shouldn't be given awards for doing their job, and the way I see it, sitting and staring at a Valkyria's ass while occasionally going through the motions of giving ammo wasn't above the call of duty, if anything it was kilos below it.

The both of us picked Sima up again, pulling him down into the trenches with us. Johann yelled out for a stretcher, which someone else down the line bolted in response to. Down here with the rats in the trenches we could hear the artillery pounding off like it did every other minute for the past few hours, staying the Gallians at their trench. With the latest batch of artillery fired, the next shift of troops shuffled in from the camp, opening the gate to the upper trench and snapping it shut behind them like we had done before them. For being the first day in a battle that Selvaria had promised to us would last no more than forty-eight hours, it was beginning to look like we were well into the seventh day. Maybe once she arrived on the field things would change for the better. Two of the army-surgeons slid Sima onto a stretcher on pulled him up to the camp for us.

"Sima, you'll pull through this. Promise me that, man!" Johann asked of Sima. A faint thumbs-down response came from Sima, who had likely pieced together the real reason he couldn't walk. Never before had I truly felt horrible for a sweet little lie. That was until Sima topped it off with a middle-finger towards me, well then I just felt like shooting him in the head. Either way, the way the casualties were mounting for us here was total bollocks. "Where you going, Yozef?" Johan asked me.

"The comms bunker. We're simply not getting enough support here! If a miracle doesn't happen soon, this –entire- trench will be Gallian in –less- than twenty minutes!" I replied, climbing up the enlarged steps to the elevated bunker containing our radios as well as the east gunnery position overlooking the no-man's-land. Corporal Bourdais at the bunker saluted me and then opened the bunker door, stepping off to the side to give a disdainful look at the first man inside. The man inside, as I immediately noticed, was an unranked Darcsen with only a grayscale patching of a typical Darcsen pattern where rank markings should have been.

"Sir…" He said towards me with fearful shivers. "…What may I do for you?"

"At ease, Private." I said, trying to cheer him up with a hint of contempt for the system of drafted Darcsens being considered lower than the other enlistees. "All men are equal under me. Sex, gender, race? None of that matters here. You're alive, that's what counts."

"Thank you sir!" he replied, smiling.

"Now, to business, I need you to –firstly- send in a request for additional troops – Primarily snipers to cull out any Gallians who try to cross between bombardments, but we're going to need more shocktroopers too if they reach our trenchline. Got that, Private Lykos?"

"Yes sir, will do sir!" Lykos gleefully responded.

"Good, good. And –secondly- I need you to ask someone when General Bles will be arriving on the frontlines." I asked him additionally.

"Already done sir, got the message in that she's arriving in about five-ten minutes, coming from the east."

"That's great. We'll be in need of her soon enough. In that case, why don't you monitor Gallian communications and send me any important tidbits you hear? That includes coded messages too. We got ourselves our little spy Cooper on the Gallian side, he's already relayed us a standard Gallian cypher those militia idiots kept lying around. Go ahead, check on their frequency, 140.85 if I read Cooper's message correctly." I requested, patting him on the shoulder twice in a brotherly way before I left. The Corporal shut the door behind me and saluted.

"Sir." He said to me.

"Corporal Bourdais. Do you –hate- Darcsens?" I asked of him in note of his expression a minute earlier.

"N- Yes sir."

"Then there is a problem here. If –Private- Lykos comes out and asks you to relay a message to me. You –will- do as he asks. You –will- look him in the eye. And you –will- respond to his request as you would The Emperor himself." I said in a stern mannerism just a few centimeters from the Corporal's face.

"Y-y-yes sir! Will do sir!" He replied, almost as if he was going to fall to tears from how I talked to him.

"Lest I will make –you- the –first- in formation should General Bles order –me- to send –my- men into a headlong charge on the –Gallian- trenchline!" I yelled at him, hammering my point in. I shook my head and ran off back to our midway camp where Johann was handing off new shells for the artillery guns.

"The Gallians! They're in the trench! West side, west side! They took out the bunker and flooded the camp!" One of my men yelled, panting from his run from the Gallians.

"Don't even think of dodging!" Someone – A female I'd reckon – yelled out behind him. A shot ripped through his chest, felling him in a single blow to reveal some bitch with a red scarf on her head behind him. I moved to pull out my officer's revolver, only to meet a Gallian pistol against my throat from the side.

"I love playin' to a full house!" Another Gallian scout said, pressing the pistol against the bones of my neck. The shot that followed was not his – Hell it wasn't even aimed at him – instead it came from Lykos, who had been aiming for Gallian shocktroopers coming on our Eastern flank. Either way, I used the confusion to back away before the Gallian could eviscerate my throat with his pistol. I fell back into the sandbags in the midway camp, waiting for someone to open the gates. Above me from the main camp Sima the Elder gave covering fire buying us a few extra seconds to bail as Bourdais unlocked the gate.

"Too close…" I panted, stumbling my way up to Johann up in the camp. "Wait. Crap." I turned around, realizing I had just handed our artillery over to the Gallians. I had barely fell down into the chair of the command tent when the sound of an RDX charge sounded off on the midway gate. "No. No. No." I said in pity of my own incompetence of failing to make sure both flanks had been covered. Perhaps Selvaria was a better officer than I… And speak of the devil.

The air darkened as a neon beam arced past, demolishing several Gallian tanks that began advancing in response to the midway artillery falling. A moment later a tank shell from _That Goddamn Tank_ as me and Johann had taken to calling it slammed into Selvaria's shield, stopping her in place before she could move to incinerate the Gallians in their camp. A mere two seconds later – That's what _That Goddamn Tank_ had become infamous for, the shell reload speed was supernaturally fast, like a Valkyria in a powered state was loading it – another shell fired off and impacted on her shield, staying her again. This was not as I planned, but from here I could see a three-C'd face on her as she deflected yet another shell. Too my additional dismay, another damned Gallian tank – One of the light tanks I'd faced at Marberry and then Bruhl – showed up and began firing more shells off during _That Goddamn Tank_'s downtime.

I pulled a ZM SG off the ground and prepared myself for the Gallian Militia to flood in from the trench to our position. A few came in as predicted – A rather gothic female shocktrooper, a muscular shocktrooper with lipstick on him, and some four-eyes engineer – which I promptly sniped off. I'd have gone to confirm the kills if not for the jackass who began barking orders at me like I was just another pawn. I didn't know what this guy's problem was, much less who he was. He face was completely concealed by his helmet he wore, as well as his hair. Nothing on him signified a rank except for an Imperial Officer's brooch, his uniform wasn't even standard. What was creeping me out was that his uniform had the same kind of designs on it as Selvaria's, which no other officer from me up to the gods had except for him and Selvaria.

"Valkyrur Selvaria's orders are for this camp to fall back at once. The situation is under control."

"Who said –you- were in charge here?! What's your –rank-, soldier!?" I demanded, pulling out my Officer's Revolver.

"Valkyrur Selvaria was the one who emplaced me here." He fervently responded, drawing his blade – of an identical make to Selvaria's, made of what looked to be purified Ragnite – on me. "She will take the extermination of the Gallians from here. Your role is done. Leave at once or you shall be cut down for disobedience to the Valkyrur." He said in a venomous monotone. "You shall refer to me henceforce as Ty the Immortal. No less, no more, or you shall suffer the stated."

I backed off, doing as he commanded with the ZM SG in my sling still. Ty followed soon after, leaving his back to the Gallian militia as _That Goddamn Tank_ rolled in. It fired a few shots from its machinegun at him, which he ignored in his walk towards the reforming Imperial line. I yanked on Johann's back, stopping him as we reached a small nook in the field to snipe from.

"Gah, what is it Yozef?! Trying to give me a heart attack?" Johann reacted, falling into the foxhole.

"Get spotting. You're –acquainted- with the –art- of the exit-kill, am I correct?" I asked.

"Uh yeah, pick off any exposed hostiles after mission-failure has been determined. That's one of the things She taught me when we were retreating from Barious."

"Good, good. Let's wait a few minutes for them to get cocky over their newly-owned camp that used to be our trenches. Same plan as when we offed that Darcsen tank-pilot back at Marberry."

We waited a few minutes, staying out of sight – Of Gallians, and of Ty who would surely cut us down for delaying – in our little hole on the middle of the field. Before our eyes the Gallians converted our camp to a Gallian one like it had been that way the whole time. The artillery I had been commanding was now pointed at our lines, and shells had begun to be loaded. To my slight relief, at least we only had three shells left for them to use against us, which they wasted trying to get on target in a lapse of forgetfulness about test-shells. Eventually me and Johann peeked up, ready to get some exit-kills on the Gallians.

"Johann. Targets?" I asked.

"Alright, we have a scout with a red headscarf on the left, three wounded Gallians by the med-tent… And, gotcha! Welkin Gunther himself, talking to their comms officer."

"Got it. Let's take him down." I said, bringing my rifle scope on his head.

"Wait, wait! Gallian sniper on top of our Eastern bunker! The one with the auburn hair!"

"The hell is –that- sniper rifle? Never seen –anything- like –it- before." I said, adjusting my aim to the Gallian sniper on the roof of our former communications bunker. "Zeroed in… Rip in peace." I sniggered, pulling my trigger. Nothing happened but a soft click from the chamber. "Johann, you dumb son of a bitch!"

"Gah, sorry Major!" he panicked, fumbling to find a 7.62mm round for my rifle. He quickly produced a few more three-shot magazines for me, and began to look for his binoculars again. He and I both zipped back down as the rippling noise of a Gallian sniper rifle sounding off. We waited a few moments, looking around us. No wounds, and no evidence of a shot landing anywhere within a hundred meters around us.

"Johann, get spotting, something's not right!" I ordered, reloading my rifle.

"Holy… One hostile neutralized… Friendly fire?" He said, annotating what he saw.

I looked through my scope, sure enough the scout in the red headscarf who had haunted me these past few months of the war was lying crumpled on the dirt and bleeding out rapidly. I wasn't sure whether to pity her, laugh at her, or go on a tirade about someone stealing my kill. Either way, one more number was added to Gallia's casualty statistics. I aimed to the communications bunker to see if the sniper had noticed us, but to my shock he was gone without a trace, not even leaving his shell casings on the roof. I took aim on Lieutenant Gunther again, who was too distracted trying to elicit a response from the ganked scout.

"Huh, that sniper was probably our boy, Cooper. Hats off to Edgar Cooper everyone! Seems kinda unethical to be sending a fifteen year old to be a spy in the Gallian militia, but…" I said, laughing to myself.

"That wasn't Cooper, sir. I recognize that face. Remember? He was one of the squad commanders we were fighting back in Barious." Johann said, continue to spot for me in case a sniper appeared.

"Whatever. Let's bag Gunther and get out of here." I said, gripping the trigger. A hand reached out, grabbing me by the collar before I could squeeze.

"You two, come on guys! You got a death wish?" The man said. I looked around to see Lykos pulling me and Johann out of the foxhole. "Let's get back to camp before the Gallians come out for blood… Or that Ty guy slits our throats!" he continued.

"Gah. Fine." I said, turning back to the Gallians. "This isn't settled, Gunther. Keep your head down if you want to keep it."

"Relax yourself, Yozef! He's just one guy, no need to hold a grudge!" Johann berated me.

"Sir, with due respect, killing that Gallian would be the last thing you ever did. You're lucky they didn't find and snipe you out the moment that first shot was fired." Lykos said, trying to reinforce Johann's opinion.

"Yeah, yeah… Whatever. I have a score to settle with –him- for all the losses I've gone through this war. All debts will be repaid in full for all my men he –murdered- when his squad –stampeded- through Bruhl. Even if it costs me –my- life. Not like I have a family to go home to. Hell, part of –me- wants to rejoin those men I –lost- in Bruhl." I finished, walking in between Johann and Lykos back towards our main line. To my surprise, Ty didn't execute me for my delay, in fact he commended me for staying behind and claiming what he thought was my exit-kill. Commended me with another undeserved promotion, I should say. Guess all the boys should call me _Colonel_ Nonnenkof from now on. Heh, well if Selvaria's plan is all it's cracked up to be, we'll get back our losses from today plus interest before it's even Thursday. Besides, this loss was really just us appeasing them for a little while to get them overconfident, Ty assured me. The only thing that's going to make us lose is if some act of divine intervention happened and another Valkyria swooped down from the heavens for the Gallian side.


End file.
